


a Promise of Protection

by channyfaith



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: 50 reasons to have (Sherlolly) sex, Cunnilingus, F/M, Foreplay, Kinda Fluffy, Miscommunication, Oral Sex, Period talk, Pillow Talk, Pregnancy Scare, These awkward science babies are so in love, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-20
Updated: 2016-02-20
Packaged: 2018-05-22 06:58:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6069619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/channyfaith/pseuds/channyfaith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the "50 Reasons to have (Sherlolly) sex" prompt fill.<br/>#35- Some very protected sex to celebrate I'm not/we're not/you're not pregnant.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a Promise of Protection

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MizJoely](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MizJoely/gifts), [justmindy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/justmindy/gifts).



And you’re positively certain?”

“Yes.”

“One hundred percent?”

“Yes, Sherlock. For God’s sake, I am not pregnant,” Molly replies in a little huff, her hands on her hips as she eyes him up and down. She misses his rather quick look of disappointment when her gaze falls to the ground and her eyes close while she tries to steady her breathing.

Recently they’d had a little scare— well not a little one, quite a big one, actually.

Sighing, she relaxes immediately, and offers her fiancé a warm smile. She hadn’t meant to be so put out, but her recent stress levels have been out of control ever since her menses had been incredibly late, which is where this entire scare had begun.

“Well that’s…good then, isn’t it?” Sherlock asks her, his brow quirking and his head nodding as if he has no idea what else to do or to say. Molly knows the situation must be awkward for him, because she feels certain that he would never have thought that he might knock someone up someday, and honestly the two of them had never spoken of having children. Aside from the obvious affection he shows to his goddaughter, she has no idea how he might feel about being a father.

“Yes, quite good I should think,” she replies, knowing very well that the detective most likely did not want children of his own. When she realized her period had not come yet, she panicked. She went straight to her gynecologist as quickly as she could secure an appointment since she wanted the most accurate results possible. Everything had checked out fine, and she was not at all pregnant. Most likely her hormone levels were a little off after she had come down with the flu, and her period would arrive promptly within the next week or two.

“You really should start wearing condoms again,” Molly blurts out, and Sherlock merely stares at her for a moment, neither of them really saying anything else after that.

“I mean, not all the time of course, but more so than what you have been doing….” she trails off, her voice noticeably soft, and her hands near her stomach as she wrings them this way and that. She and Sherlock had fallen into a horrible habit of relying mostly on her birth control, because to be quite honest they both liked it when he came inside of her. “I’ll keep better track of my menses and when I’m ovulating, to figure out when it might be best for you to not use a condom.”

Sherlock nods his head in understanding, because this is Molly’s body after all, and he’ll do all he can to protect it from his infiltrating sperm if that was what she wants. Condoms might make it so he wasn’t as sensitive, but at least it tended to make the sex last longer.

Safe sex. Yes, safe sex could be good sex. Incredible sex even.

“Molly,” Sherlock breathes her name as he steps forward, his hand moving to gently lay on top of both of her nervous, twitching ones. “I’ll go check all the expiration dates on our condoms then, shall I?” The detective grins widely, and then he runs off to the bathroom first, rummaging through the boxes in the cabinets. “Nope. Nope. Nope. Not good!” he hollers before dumping the bad boxes into the bin, then makes his way to their bedroom where he knows they also have some condoms hiding in both bedside drawers.

Molly is giggling now, and she can’t help but rush after him, watching as he marches about the bedroom like he’s on some world saving mission. In many ways he might consider it to be a world saving mission to keep a baby out of her womb. This causes Molly to sigh wistfully, and Sherlock looks up at her, thinking she’s worried that they have no usable condoms.

“Oh, Molly don’t fear. We have a completely full box that doesn’t expire for some time. You or I shall have to pick up some more from the shops here soon, however,” he assures her in an almost placatingly sweet voice as he lifts up the sacred box of protection, giving it a little shake. “Though perhaps I should test one of these out. Make sure they still fit, and all that.”

“Perhaps you should,” Molly agrees, her eyes lighting up with mirth.

“And we should celebrate the fact that you have an empty uterus.” Sherlock manages a smile, and somehow so does Molly.

“How do you suggest we celebrate, Mr. Holmes?” the pathologist asks, her voice having lowered a whole octave, which gets her fiance’s attention incredibly quickly.

After tossing the box of condoms behind his back and onto the bed, Sherlock makes his way over to Molly, his large hands coming up to lightly grip her arms as he pulls her snug against his body. She gasps at the sensation of the heat radiating off of him, seeping through her clothing and onto every inch of her skin. “I can think of a few incredibly desirable suggestions of celebration,” Sherlock murmurs, his hands moving from Molly’s arms to her hips, and his gaze leaves her eyes to stare at her lips instead.

Molly says nothing in return, her mouth only parting, and the detective goes in for the kill. Their lips come together, softly at first, until the sudden passion and fire that they are both feeling ignites within their bodies, and the kiss becomes anything but soft.

Wrapping her arms around her fiance, Molly grips at the back of his his button up shirt, her hands tugging it out of his tight trousers with all of her might.

She can feel Sherlock humming in delight against her mouth as he begins steering her towards their bed, his own hands roaming across her body, reaching for the buttons of her brightly colored blouse as their tongues dance together in a sensual rhythm.

Moving her foward even further, the backs of Molly’s legs hit the edge of the bed, and she falls down onto the feather soft mattress with an adorable squeak. Sherlock chuckles as he comes to hover over her, the sound reverberating all around them until his lips brush against hers once more before they make their way to her ear, then her jaw, and her neck where he leaves little nips along the way.

Feeling hot and wanton, Molly groans as she wriggles against the bed, desperate for more of her lover’s touch. It amazes her how easily Sherlock can get her going. It’s almost like flipping a switch.

“Easy, darling. We want this celebration to be nice and slow now, don’t we?” Sherlock very nearly coos, and all she can do is nod her head in response before she lifts her hands, putting them to work by undoing his shirt buttons as quickly as she can.

With lots of effort, maneuvering and grunts from the excited couple, they eventually divest one another of all of their clothing. Many of it is lying on the floor, but there is a pair of knickers and perhaps a sock or two lying at the foot of the bed. The articles of clothing lie there forgotten, however, as the consulting detective begins anew to shower his fiance with kisses.

He worships her body, his plush lips mapping their way across her skin, lavishing every last freckle or mole with a lick of his tongue, or nip of his teeth.

Molly is squirming, and she knows exactly where he is headed, because Sherlock prides himself in the way he eats her out. He knows he can make her sing, because he’s learned to play her just like his Stradivarius, only perhaps he’s learned to play her body maybe even a little better than his beloved instrument.

Pushing her legs apart, Sherlock moves his face forward, breathing in her musky scent at first, simply observing how wet she has already become. She’s not patient though, and she knows that he knows it as he watches her body wriggle, and he knows she’s hungry for it, because he’s hungry for it, too.

Moving in, he plants his lips right on her cunt, kissing her there smoothly, causing her to gasp from the blessed contact. Sherlock gets to work then, knowing exactly what to do. He teases her clit next, using just the tip of his tongue before he finally sucks the little nub between his lips. His forefinger teases her opening, spreading her wetness until he pushes it inside of her.

“Fuck, fuck!” Molly chants, her language becoming incredibly dirty in bed, but the detective loves every last curse or dirty word she would breathe, and often scream.

Letting a second finger join his first, he curves them just right as his lips, teeth, and tongue continue to pleasure her cunt and clit in all sorts of sinful ways. Sherlock begins to move his hand, just slowly at first, before his pace becomes almost unforgivably quick.

“Oh my God, yes! Yes you fucking genius, you!” Molly hollers as she reaches down and grabs a handful of curls, gripping them tightly in her fingers as she lets the pleasure run through her. She can feel her body rushing towards that precipice, and she knows she won’t last much longer.

Sherlock knows this as well, and he doubles his efforts, not holding back, because he wants her to come just as badly as she wants to.

With one more nip of his teeth and thrust of his fingers, Molly is gone. Her body lifts off the bed as she cries out in bliss, the fingers of one hand still clenched in his hair, while the other set is gripping the sheets so hard that her knuckles have turned deathly white.

Pulling away when he knows she has become too sensitive, Sherlock merely watches her for a moment, observing her pink skin and heavy breathing. His cock twitches at the sight, and he feels proud to have caused her pleasure just as he does every time.

“Goodness, Sherlock. I need to tell you I’m not pregnant more often,” Molly teases, but she knows he treats her likes a goddess in the bedroom whether she comes bearing good news or not.

Sherlock says nothing as he moves forward and plants his lips upon hers, letting her taste herself on his tongue. She hums against his lips, her arms wrapping around him to bring him ever closer so that their naked bodies may press together, the tips of her hardened nipples brushing across his skin.

His cock is thick and heavy against Molly’s belly, and she smirks up at him as she gestures for the box of condoms still lying beside them on the bed.

“As the lady wishes,” Sherlock agrees with a nod, and he reaches for the box, grabs a foil packet from it, then tosses the box in the floor with their clothing. After ripping the packet with his teeth, he sheaths his hardened prick with the condom, rolling it on with a hiss.

Molly watches lazily from her spot near the pillows at the top of the bed, one of her hands lightly combing through her hair, as her toes tease the top of Sherlock’s thigh. This distracts him for a second or two, but he finally gets the condom on securely, and comes towards her with a growl.

It is moments like these when Molly feels completely and utterly consumed by him. Sherlock’s eyes, a pristine blue-green color, with flecks of brown and gold around the pupil, seem to be on fire in this moment, his gaze filled with lust and love and so many other emotions. Her arms open wide for him, and she brings him toward her, ever closer.

Sherlock is eager to oblige, and she watches as he takes his cock in hand, teasing her clit with the very tip of it before he finally slides inside of her with a deep, satisfied groan leaving his lips. Molly joins in on his groans, because she is always particularly fond of the the very first feeling of being stretched and filled by him.

After they both take a moment to adjust, the detective begins to thrust his hips in a slow but steady rhythm. Molly’s hands slide across the planes of his back, and her legs wrap around his waist, bringing him as close and as far as he can go. 

“Fuck, Molly,” Sherlock grunts, and this causes the pathologist to smile, because she can never quite get over all the sounds and noises of pleasure that he can’t help but make. Her fiance takes notice of the tilt of her lips, and he grins as well, a small boyish grin that she adores so much, and lets her know he loves her. 

His slow yet passionate thrusting continues, and Molly whimpers as he curves himself just the right way, hitting a spot inside her that makes her melt. She lifts her hips to meet him, but not to attempt to make him go faster, because this is not a race this time; this is a dance of ardor, love, and in a way relief, one that they would sway and rock to together.

“Oh Molly, Molly, Molly,” Sherlock chants her name like a mantra, and he does speed up just a little, but Molly shifts with him, her hips moving up as best as she can manage while she grips onto his shoulders, her blunt nails leaving little marks in his skin as she gets closer to another orgasm. Sherlock is getting closer as well, Molly can tell.

“Oh God, please. Please!” she begs, although at this point she isn’t exactly certain what it is that she is begging for. She can feel herself edging closer to the precipice, and then as Sherlock snakes his hand down between their bodies and begins to tease her sensitive little nub, she falls over that edge with a choked sob.

Her hips lift up off the bed, and her inner muscles flutter and convulse which causes Sherlock to curse and groan, his hips thrusting only a few more times before he stiffens against her, and comes with a shout.

They lay there panting, their limbs a tangled mess, and their hearts beating as one within their chests. Sherlock feels as if he could lay there for hours, and Molly would probably let him, but he has a used condom to dispose of now, and he does just that before returning to her in bed.

They cuddle, and kiss, and caress one another after their throes of passion, and Molly has to admit that this might be her favorite part of sex; the feeling of affection and fondness make her heart fill with so much warmth that she thinks it might sing.

Something is off as they lay there together this time however, something she can’t quite place her finger on.

 Sherlock is staring up at the ceiling, but he feels so distant from her now, and somehow she feels like she is putting a distance between them as well, as if they are both putting up their own invisible walls.

“Something is wrong.” Molly decides to come out with it, because there was no point in lying here acting miserable after such delicious sex. “Don’t even try to hide it from me, Holmes. You know that you can’t,” she says sternly, her chestnut colored eyes filled with concern, and when Sherlock lets out a long breath, she knows that she’s got him.

“There might be something that I was not completely truthful about,” Sherlock begins, and Molly’s heart starts to flip with worry, and she is sure it’s written all over her face.

“It is true that I was worried when you came and told me of your possible pregnancy— well I was more than just worried, I was terrified,” he continues, his voice a calm, deep baritone, as if he could sense her worry, and he probably did.

Sherlock sighed again, steeling himself for what he was about to say next, almost like he was setting himself up for disappointment. “The truth is, I had no idea if I would make a good father, and I still don’t know, but I began to grow accustomed to the idea of being a parent with you very quickly. But it began to become clear to me that you did not want a child, or at least you don’t want one yet— which is fine, of course. It is your body, and your decision, and I would never force you-”

“Sherlock, are you telling me what I think you’re telling me?” she interrupts him, her voice breathy and her eyes doe-like as she stares up at him.

“That I found myself ready— No, not just ready, but even _wanting_ a child?” he asks, and she nods. “Oh, well yes then, it is exactly what you are thinking.”

Molly’s lips do this odd, sort of twitching motion, as if she isn’t sure whether to laugh or to cry. “Oh Sherlock!” She wraps her arms around him, and nearly climbs on top of him in the process. “You silly dolt. I wish you would have told me sooner. The truth is, I actually found myself wanting to be pregnant too,” she admits sheepishly, and finds that for the moment she can’t meet his gaze.

Sherlock chuckles, a deep warm chuckle that Molly can feel vibrating against her which finally causes her to look up at his face. There is nothing but love, devotion, and humor etched there in his lines and wrinkles. This makes Molly giggle as well, and she feels lighter than ever.

“I suppose we won’t be needing those condoms now after all,” he murmurs, and there is a glint of deviousness in his gaze as he rolls over on top of her.

“No, but I’ll still need to get off my birth control,” Molly replies as she wraps her arms around him, and hums in delight when he begins pressing kisses to her neck.

“Trial and error are all a part of scientific experimentation, Molly. Therefore I believe it is one hundred percent justifiable for us to give it a try tonight, and every night before and after you go off of your birth control,” Sherlock suggests, one of those lazy, sinful smirks playing on his lips.

Molly can’t find it in herself to resist, especially not when he kisses her neck like that. Besides, she had always been a believer in the sciences as well, and Sherlock’s logic seems fairly sound to her.

They test out this ‘theory’ of his this night and the next, and every night until they are crowded together in their bathroom some months later. The two of them are looking down at a pregnancy test in Molly’s hands, both of them staring lovingly at the two little lines displayed there: two little lines of hope, and proof of the efforts of their love.

But they both also know that maybe it wouldn’t hurt to try just one more time, then again, and again, and again….

 

**Author's Note:**

> My second attempt at writing, and my first attempt at writing smut in a fic. I hope you enjoyed it, and please be kind, though constructive criticism is welcome. 
> 
> Thanks to MizJoely and justmindy for looking over this for me. I truly appreciate it!
> 
> (I don't own any of these characters.)


End file.
